| rev:text
| - So, are you going to troll through everyone else's reviewzzz to find out the exact location?
Nah. Just read this. I'll give you precisely what you need to know.
Cosmo.
Third floor.
Just behind the pool/billiards table with retro lounge seating and shag rug.
Between what is (at the moment) Blue Ribbon Sushi and a cylindrical mini-elevator.
Down the little hallway lined with kitschy music memorabilia.
And... you're there.
(Not So) Secret Pizza.
After a couple of years, it ain't much of a secret anymore. And it's cashing in. What once was only three Georges a slice, is now at least an Abe per. Still, probably the least expensive, hot-- or at least warmed-- meal in this mega-hotel.
Pizzas are already baked, sliced and, oddly, re-distributed and... arranged miscellaneously back into pizza rounds?? Yup. Presumably so you can see all the varieties in one glance at one pie. Just peruse the mish-mash of slice variety and choose what you want. They then throw it in an oven for a minute-- and only a minute, in my case.
Move to the left, pay the cashier. Dispense some agua from the cooler, gulp it down, then step back and wait for your order.
Sausage slice was quite good. The everything with green peppers was nothing special. There are *maybe* three seats next to the counter where you line up. Usually taken though.
Or just take your Secret Pizza back out to the pool table area. You might have a smidge better luck snagging a seat there. But if not, just stand there and chomp your slices, it's kool. Guaranteed, someone around that lounge area will hit you up. Conversation at the very least.
Ah yes. Nothing like a kid getting his first legal taste of alcohol in a public environment. Classic. Just standing around, dazed, taking swigs from a giant malt liquor bottle.
"Hi where you guys from... I live here, yeah in Vegas... never had a f*k*g drink before... I f*k*g just turned 21 so going out tonight getting f*k*g wasted... these my friends we're just hanging getting f*kd up actually I live here in vegas. No f*k*g way, you look like you're 23. Do you drink.. f*k*g never had f*k*g alcohol until tonight do you do weed, no.. oh okay that's okay, i f*k*g do it all the f*k*g time it's the f*k*g best. yeah i'm in some f*k*g classes, i go to paul mitchell salon school uggh shittt it's ok, nah, it sucks... well it's, no i f*k*g hate it, hate school. f*k*g live with my mom it sucks... f*k*g hate it because she's with some f*k*g d*k f*k*g a-hole now. do you have kids, no... alright, that's so kool, i f*k*g hate kids they're so f*k*g obnoxious f*k*g hate 'em, my f*k*g mom's trying to have more f*k*g kids and i f*k*g can't stand the sight of them so f*k*g annoying give me f*k*g headache all the f*k*g time. f*k*g kids are the f*k*g worst. well nice to meet you, have a good time here."
And with that, he just wandered off with his friends.
Zachariah, wherever you are: glad it was a memorable 21st. You won't remember watching us pig out on Secret Pizza or talking to us. Probably won't even remember being at the Cosmo. Buck up kiddo, you got your 25th to look forward to someday; you don't want to be too high-- for some of it anyway.
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